At Galaxy's End
by red rose knight
Summary: Yojimbo meets Star Wars. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself stranded on a remote world in a town troubled by a gang war.
1. Chapter 1

**Time Frame:** Clone Wars

**Author's Note:** This is Akira Kurasawa's _Yojimbo_ meets the Star Wars universe. I was inspired when I saw **The Clone Wars** episode "Bounty Hunters". If you've seen _Yojimbo_ (or _Fistful of Dollars_ or _Last Man Standing_) you pretty much know all the major beats of the plot, but I'd like to think that there might still be a surprise or two.

_Special thanks to Jaira and Dan for their beta work and encouragement (or crazed stalking depending on the day)._

**Disclaimer:** You know the routine. Just playing in the sandbox for a little while.

* * *

**At Galaxy's End**

Down.

Down.

Down.

A sea of never-ending purple closed in. The light was so far away it shimmered and grew fainter with every passing moment. He reached up through the murkiness, as if to touch the light above. Hundreds of tiny bubbles rushed past taunting his oxygen starved lungs. Time was running out as the powerful currents pulled him deeper.

Panic would only shorten his life. Struggle would sap his last reserves of strength. Fear would crush him as easily as the water that surrounded him, but Obi-Wan Kenobi would not give in.

A dark shadow swept overhead and crashed down, stirring the already agitated waters. The impact knocked precious air from his lungs and water flowed in like liquid fire. The instinctive cough made things worse as the helpless Jedi spun end over end. Costly moments were wasted before orientation and the light above was again found.

In the shadowy depths below, Obi-Wan watched his dying transport sink deeper into the abyss. From far above, the lake hadn't looked that deep, not that there had been much time to observe the crash landing site as everything had happened so suddenly. His transport—damaged in a scuffle with Separatist ships near Rishi—dropped out of hyperspace and had broken apart over the planet. Flashes of purple and electric blue arcs lighted up below, and the water vibrated as the craft was crushed by the water pressure.

He was still being pulled deeper.

Calm.

His body was tiring, his movements sluggish from struggling, and the cold numbing away the pain. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan stilled his thoughts as his body was carried along by the powerful current. There seemed to be as much water above as below.

The Force revealed that any fauna in the lake had dispersed with the violent crash and that there was no one close who could offer him aid. This was his battle alone, but he was not without hope.

The moment he felt the surge, he was in action. The distress overtaking his body was pushed aside as he called on oxygen deprived muscles and drew his hands up.

Absolute focus.

The Force, along with the water, provided just the resistance he needed to push him backward.

Timing was everything.

A giant air bubble released from the sinking transport bolted upward through the water. Colliding with the void, Obi-Wan was desperate for air. Hacking. Choking up the water he had earlier swallowed, he was barely aware enough to change the direction of the Force push. Using the low resistance created by the large air pocket, he was propelled upward.

Breaking the surface, Obi-Wan gasped for breath, but his water-laden lungs had other plans. Violent coughs shook him as he fought to keep his head above the crashing waves. The churning waters shoved the Jedi to and fro as the winds seemed to bear down in collusion to drown him.

Over the white crests, Obi-Wan spied distant rocks jutting upward along a shoreline. Ignoring the exhaustion, he pushed forward, working his way toward the outcropping. Obi-Wan had survived a ship falling out the sky; a little water would not be the end of him.

Frozen fingers gripped the slippery rock face as he pulled his body up enough to spare himself of swallowing any more water. He rested his head against the unforgiving stone, unsure how he would muster the strength to get out of the water.

A voice from above.

Rodese? Obi-Wan thought he was hearing things and cocked his head to the side, but was relieved to discover he had not lost his mind. A Rodian was perched on the rock staring down at him. A spray of icy water pelted Obi-Wan as he tried to speak, but the chattering of his teeth hindered anything he might have said.

"Hang on," the Rodian said in Basic as he rose up and disappeared beyond the rocks.

"I don't intend on letting go," Obi-Wan managed with a bit of effort.

•

Obi-Wan shifted on the broken down couch. He tugged at the edges of the thermal blanket, common in most spacecraft emergency kids. Although dressed in dry clothes, his very bones were still saturated with the biting cold of the lake.

"I am unsure if my distress call went out," he said.

The Rodian shook his head. "Even if you did, it is unlikely to be of any use." He motioned upward with a heavily scarred hand as he crossed the cluttered chamber carrying a steaming cup of kaf. "Oranda puts out so many solar flares interstellar communication is nearly useless. To contact your people, you'll have to go to the capital. Out here, we can hardly communicate from town to town."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said as he curled his cold-numbed fingers around the warm offering. He looked to his rescuer and realized the Rodian was much older than he first realized.

As if aware of Obi-Wan's observations, the Rodian brushed his hand over the silvery ridge of spines that crested his head. "Gon. Just call me Gon. I told you earlier, but I don't think you were conscious enough to hear me."

Obi-Wan smiled. He had recovered from his earlier ordeal and could now hold onto his rescuer's name. He tipped his head slightly, though the motion made his head swim a bit. "Thank you, Gon." His gaze slid along the wall behind the large workbench that dominated the room. Half hidden under a tacked up schematic, was the emblem of one of the preeminent houses of the Bounty Hunters' Guild.

The Rodian crossed the wall and adjusted the schematic to hide what lay beneath. A thoughtful look lighted his dark eyes. "Gon's not my real name," he said as he went and poured himself a drink. "You're at the galaxy's end. We few so far from everything consider this place a fresh start. Many here have left their old lives behind."

"Galaxy's end?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding hoarser than he would have liked.

Settling down at the workbench, Gon considered his drink. "You are in the Oranda system. You are as far from the Core as you can be."

If Obi-Wan's memory was correct, Kamino was the nearest point of contact. He frowned as he leaned back on the couch and stroked his beard with his free hand.

It would be days before anyone realized he was out of contact.

Feeling the congestion in his lungs, he set the kaf cup aside before a coughing fit overtook him. The action aggravated his still-aching chest.

"You are lucky to be alive, friend," Gon said.

When the onboard systems had completely failed and not even the escape pod was serviceable, Obi-Wan had done what any calm thinking Jedi would have done: cut himself an opening in the hull.

"I do not believe in luck."

The Rodian eyed Obi-Wan every time he spoke. His clipped Coruscant accent seemed to make the being wary.

After a time, Gon shook his head and straightened. "Whether you believe in luck or not, I do. There was a greater hand in all this that kept you from being broken corpse at the bottom of the lake for the aki fish to feast on. Though you many have only suffered bruises, you were hypothermic and half drowned when I fished you from the lake. The fact that you are still sitting here speaking with me is a miracle." Gon illustrated with his hand in a deep sweep as he looked upward. "Your ship came down at such a steep trajectory, and I saw no escape pod released. No being should have survived that."

Shifting to look about the shack without disturbing his admittedly minor injuries, Obi-Wan conceded with a nod. He noted his trousers and boots drying near an ancient heating unit. The ragged remains of his tunics were in a pile in the corner.

Beyond the couch that he was occupying, there was a freighter captain's char and a cot stacked against the wall. The workbench was meticulously set up to repair anything, but especially droids. The shack was cluttered from wall to wall with parts, battered casings, and other equipment stacked high on shelves; but no sign of anything remotely resembling a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan remembered that his lightsaber had been in his hand when he flung himself from the breech moments before the ship crashed and started taking on water. Only as the numbness left his mind, did the reality of the situation settle in. He wasn't just lost and out of communication; he was missing his weapon. Anakin would never let him live this down.

"Did you perhaps—"

A deep sigh. The Rodian's snout twitched. "I found you and barely you. The lake, she takes it all with her. It is a shame, but there is nothing of the ship that can be salvaged."

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Obi-Wan took in the weight of what had happened. Looking over at the old Rodian, he asked, "Forgive me, but where am I? The Oranda system?"

"Oranda IV, or as settlers around here call it, the galaxy's end."

The planet was away from the major fighting. The Oranda system, as of yet, had not proven any strategic value to the Republic or the Separatists. Still, Obi-Wan thought, there was a vague familiarity about it, something that reached beyond battle maps and into the studies of his youth.

Whatever it was escaped him.

"Where am I from the nearest city? I need to get to the capital soon."

Gon burst into laughter and started mumbling in his native tongue.

Obi-Wan did not find the situation very amusing.

"We are on the very outskirts of civilization and so very far from the capital." The mirth faded from the Rodian's aura, and a deep sense of dissolution washed over him. "So very far from the capital," he repeated as he shook his head. Getting up, Gon retrieved an ancient datapad from the workbench and called up a map before handing it off to Obi-Wan. Gon pointed to the spot near the lake. "You are here."

Obi-Wan studied the image. He was over a thousand kilometers from the capital of Pirin. A bit more than walking distance. Motioning toward a marker, he asked, "What about Tehli? It's just ten klicks away."

"No!" Gon barked. As if realizing what he had done, the Rodian sank to the captain's chair and waved a hand before his face. "I'm sorry. It's just that you should not go to Tehli. It is very dangerous there."

Danger was all relative, Obi-Wan thought dryly. "Why?"

"No one cares what happens in Tehli. We cried for help when the bandits came and the regional magistrate told us to deal with it ourselves. What we got for it were gangs overrunning the town. There's nothing but death there now." Gon placed both hands on his knees and stared at the floor. After a bit, he looked up. "I will take you to the divided road outside Tehli. You can take it to Hazaar or Sinda. There, you might be able to find a ride to the capital."

It was clear that Gon did not want to discuss Tehli, so Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the datapad. He studied a barren patch between their location and Tehli that was labeled Mabet.

•

Obi-Wan's breath hung in the frosty air. Each chilly inhale made his chest ache, and he found himself pulling close the long coat that Gon had given him. The deep brown tunics were warm and comfortable, but tugging at the narrow sleeves of the coat, Obi-Wan noted that black wasn't his color.

"Not quite your style?" There was amusement in the Rodian's voice as he guided the light hovertruck along a narrow curving road that slipped along the rolling prairie.

"I am quite appreciative of the clothing," Obi-Wan said, "but you are right; this is not my usual fare." He was already beginning to miss his customary tans and browns.

The Rodian glanced over just as Obi-Wan brushed a dusty smudge from his dark sleeve. "You'll blend in on the open road," Gon said. He then muttered, "As long as you don't do anything to draw attention to yourself."

Obi-Wan gave no sign that he had heard the softly spoken words.

Gon reached out and fiddled with the controls on the battered dashboard. "It will get you to Hazaar, and then you should be able to find a transport heading to Pirin. Surely, someone will be going to market." The older being shook his head. "There used to be transports from Tehli all the time. Much trade, but since the bandits started roaming the hills and the gangs set up shop demanding high protection fees that's all disappeared. The magistrate from Hazaar doesn't bother coming this way. Even he doesn't want to get involved with the gangs."

To the south blue winter flowers jutted up between blades of yellowed grass that shifted in gentle waves in the calm breeze. Somewhere beyond the low hills were the pearl marshes, but they did not interest Obi-Wan. His gaze turned to the north where distant mountains framed the horizon. For a moment, he thought he heard the deep reverberations of a meditation bell, but the vibration and rattle of the vehicle quickly dispelled the notion.

Guiding the hovertruck to a stop, Gon paused before turning to Obi-Wan. "This is as close to Tehli as I get." He pointed east along the path. "Follow that, and over the hill you will come to a fork in the road. The signs will guide you. Go left to Hazaar, where you might find help."

Obi-Wan jumped from the flatbed of the truck, landing easily on the rough road. Or at least as easily as he would have save his recent ordeal. He turned to look up at the old Rodian. "And if I go to the right?"

Gon wrinkled his snout. "For a man who fought so hard to live yesterday, it would be foolish to throw your life away today by going to Tehli. Go left, to Hazaar."

Obi-Wan nodded and offered a shallow bow as Gon turned the vehicle around in a tight circle and headed back in the direction he had come at a far quicker pace.

For a time, Obi-Wan stood there staring out at the stretch of road as it rose over the hill and disappeared. He thought of everything Gon has said and knew the old Rodian to be right. He still had no idea if his emergency burst transmission had gone out, let alone been received by anyone. Even if they had a planet to start on, no one would know where to look. His transport had been swallowed by the lake. He needed to contact the Jedi Temple.

Striding forward along the dusty road, Obi-Wan mounted the hill and found another small dip where the road forked and the path to the right disappeared over another incline and obscuring what lie ahead while the other flowed like a ribbon toward the eastern horizon.

Once at the fork, reason told Obi-Wan to go left, but a gentle breeze so much warmer than the cool air that drifted through the shallow valley, called to him from the other direction.

And he obeyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Hope the story continues to be interesting, anaticulapraecantrix! Thanks for reviewing.

* * *

Muffled.

Yes, muffled.

On the outskirts of Tehli, Obi-Wan could sense the underlying fear, and it grew with every dusty step he kicked up along the streets as he grew closer to the center of town. Nervous figures moved about; rushing from point to point with their eyes cast low. Shops were shuttered as if for the night, though it should have been the height of morning business.

Movement behind drawn curtains drew an awareness that Obi-Wan was being watched. So much for not drawing attention to himself, he thought.

The acrid smell of burnt wiring, though faint, caught his attention and he looked toward the darkened husk of a shop front just off the main street. To his right, creaking hinges, but a quick look revealed only a pale hand pulling a curtain closed.

He paused and looked about, fearless against the now empty streets. At first, the solemn-faced buildings seemed worn and uninteresting, but upon further study revealed the ghosts of former freighters and spacecraft transformed into shop walls and roofs.

Hearing the soft growl of servos, he looked about and found the source: a tarnished silver protocol droid stepping forward and encountering a wall before retreating and repeating the motion.

"Excuse me," Obi-Wan said as he approached the droid. "If I could—"

The droid turned, revealing half a head. Sparks danced over the ragged components of its exposed circuitry. It belched out a string of disconnected words, jumping languages and dialects so fast that even Obi-Wan's extensive vocabulary could not begin to comprehend.

An arm, severed at the wrist, reached out toward him as the droid shuffled forward, revealing its torso riddled from blaster fire.

"_Bokocha silari taneeta_ help me _eayka eecho_!"

Keeping his hand to his side, Obi-Wan drew his fingers together. The Force did the rest.

The droid seized up, the light of its remaining eye dimmed and the droid staggered slightly before falling backward and clanging as it hit the ground.

"Oh! Oh! The poor thing," a voice called out as a human skirted along a shop wall looking around as if checking to see who was watching him. "It's been crying out for help for days, and the repairman never comes to the town anymore since they burned down his shop." The little man danced about the fallen droid, pausing to look over his shoulder repeatedly.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It just fell over," he said. It was the truth, no need to elaborate that the central core was crushed, permanently deactivating it.

Were Anakin there, he would have chastised Obi-Wan for destroying the droid and then would have tried to repair the blasted thing.

Oh, what Anakin didn't know, Obi-Wan mused to himself as he turned his attention to the nervous character that had appeared out of nowhere. "I am looking for help."

"There's no help to be found here," the man said, echoing the old Rodian.

"I need to get to Hazaar. Or better yet, the capital."

"The only one with money to go to the capital is Kuroth Jato." The man shook his head and affected a mocking appearance of sadness. "There's not much business these days. He never leaves town." In the comical fashion of a stage actor, the man brightened. "You can buy your way though."

Obi-Wan patted his breast pocket. "Yes, well, I am rather short on credits right now."

"Oh, you need work. I can help you. Yes, I can!" He pounded his chest. "I'm the mayor of this town. I know everything and everyone." The man twisted about, checking to see who was watching. He stepped close to Obi-Wan, who promptly retreated from the foul breathed man. "You go to the Jato gang or the Defenders. Yes, the Defenders." He waved a hand in front of his face. "Forget the Jato. They will be finished soon. Go to the Defenders, hire yourself as a bodyguard. They pay good money for good men. Tell them Gilban Sooley sent you." A big grin. "Make sure they know Sooley sent you. I get a commission on every man I send to the gangs."

Having said everything he needed to say, Sooley turned and ran off, disappearing around a corner down the street.

Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder if he had struck his head during his escape and was walking around, unaware of suffering a concussion. He would expect that kind of open corruption in Hutt controlled worlds, but this place felt far removed. Even with the mayor gone, Obi-Wan could still feel the eyes on him, but found no threat in the observation. Continuing on through the quiet street, he spied a tavern, just as closed up as all the other businesses. Angling in that direction, he picked up his pace, mildly aware of the jostling of bodies behind a large façade at his left.

Doors swung open at a gambling hall and a motley crew of beings spilled out into the street quickly encircling the Jedi. Obi-Wan slowed his step, looking around at the colorfully dressed menagerie. Most were armed with outdated pistols and rifles commonly found on farms and not in the hands of cold-blooded killers.

Well, most of them at least.

The giant Wookiee, resting the shaft of a mallet against his shoulder, barked at Obi-Wan, making the Jedi retreat a step.

"Another ugly human," a dark green scaled Trandoshan hissed. He shifted revealing a rack of knives hidden under his leather coat.

"All humans are ugly to you, Burssk," a tall man with black lettering tattooed on his right cheek said before throwing an arm over the Trandoshan's shoulder. In his other hand he gripped a shiny blaster pistol that looked more like a diplomat's sidearm than a common thug's weapon.

Burssk shoved the man away. "Back off, Ripper." He turned to look at a third ruffian, a heavyset Zabrak. "Don't you agree, Zu Duth? Humans are ugly."

There was a first time for everything, Obi-Wan thought as he laid eyes on his first fat Zabrak. He had seen them of all colors and bearing, though the most unforgettable being one with fiery yellow eyes framed in black and red.

Zu Duth's laughter snapped Obi-Wan back to the moment. The Zabrak rested his hand on a holstered DC-17 heavy blaster pistol commonly issued to ARC Troopers.

"He looks as bright as a Qar flea hound," Zu Duth said.

A jovial roar erupted amongst the ruffians.

From the smell of the men, Obi-Wan surmised they were drunk enough that anything said would be entertaining. Playing along, he scratched at his jawline. "I am just passing through," he said. "Looking for a ride to the next town."

Burssk shoved his two companions aside, glaring at Obi-Wan. "We don't let peasants ride in landspeeders."

Quick to join in, Ripper said, "Yeah! Peasants walk."

"Shut up." Burssk hissed and swung at Ripper, knocking him back. "You're not much better."

Obi-Wan took their distraction as an invitation to leave. He headed toward the tavern, glad that his new friends had not decided to join him, but dismayed when the shop's cracked shutter slammed closed on his approach.

He leaned against the door frame, keeping an eye on the characters as they spat on the ground and waved obscene gestures in his direction before wandering back into the gambling hall. Only the three that had directly confronted him held back. Watching.

Lightly knocking on the door. Obi-Wan listened as there was a shuffling from the inside. "Are you open?"

The door slid open revealing a white furred Devaronian female. Her clawed fingertips pressed to the sides of the frame. "We're closed." She tried to slide the door closed, but Obi-Wan blocked it with his foot.

He flashed her a smile. "Business is that good, you can turn customers away?"

The female snarled, revealing her prominent canine teeth. "Fine. A drink." She retreated into the tavern. "Close the door behind you."

The interior décor was sparse. Repurposed tables and benches likely from a transport of some sort. A long bar separating the open room from the kitchen area where a dusty, green plunk fuel droid stood and served as a counter. Over the main door hung a sign that read: Jakkar Varget, Proprietor.

"You don't look like a Jakkar," Obi-Wan said as he took up a seat at the end of the bar closest to the heating unit.

The Devaronian looked out from the kitchen. "Because I'm not. Jakkar was my husband. It's Hako's place now."

"Hako," Obi-Wan said, rolling the name around on his tongue.

Hako placed a glass with red liquid in front of Obi-Wan.

The Jedi looked at the drink and sighed.

"You're broke." She pushed the drink toward him anyway. "Just drink. And then you go on your way, where ever you were going."

"Any food?"

"Seriously?" Hako was dramatic as she marched into the back room. "It's cold and I'm not going to put the effort into heating it up."

"That's fine." Obi-Wan listened to the banging from the kitchen and glanced about the empty room. "Not a lot of business."

"Not with those thugs accosting anyone and everyone." She dropped a bowl filled with grey mash and purple slivers of something in it in front of her only patron. "Eat. And speaking of those thugs, you should leave town while there's still daylight."

Obi-Wan stirred the mash that reminded him of Master Yoda's gruel. "Quite unwelcoming," he said under his breath. A bite of the mash. Tasted only slightly better than gruel. "How far to the nearest town?"

Hako started to wipe down the bar. "Forty-four klicks. If you walk through the night, you might make it by morning."

After enduring several spoonfuls of the mash, Obi-Wan used the drink to clear his palate. "And why would I want to leave such a friendly place?"

Several moments passed while Hako kept her cleaning up, but eventually she slowed her work until she completely stopped. She gripped the rag and nodded in the direction of the gambling house. "They call themselves the Defenders, but it's just a joke. They shake down the locals for protection money and if you can't pay they burn down your shop or home. You stand up for yourself and they will kill you."

"That is what happened to your husband?"

Hako nodded. "If that wasn't enough, Kuroth Jato, who owns the inn, the supply store, and is a major buyer at the pearl fairs—which we haven't had in long months—decided he wasn't going to pay and hired his own armed guard. Everything has escalated from there." She motioned to the bowl of mash in front of Obi-Wan. "You should eat that before it completely sets up."

Obi-Wan looked at the bowl. "I may need another drink."

A sound outside caught Hako's attention. She frowned as she pushed the warmed carafe of wine toward Obi-Wan and then stepped out from behind the bar. Ignoring a thank you he uttered between spoonfuls of mash, she crossed the room and pushed up one of the window shutters taken from a spacecraft. "Damn."

With the last few spoonfuls of mash down, Obi-Wan overfilled his glass and carried it across the room to see whatever had the Devaronian's attention.

A squat, ugly human slid out of a shiny landspeeder. He slung a long stun baton over his shoulder and looked about as if observing his domain. He was followed by three not so tough looking figures. More farmer's sons pretending to be something they were not, Obi-Wan thought.

"That's Ferko Merak," she said. "Every week, he goes off looking for recruits to make up for those killed or who runs away. He's crazy, you know. Like a wild boar when he gets mad. Doesn't care how much damage he causes. He got mad at old Gon when he kicked a droid in the repair shop and hurt his foot. Like Ferko's idiocy was Gon's fault, but that didn't stop him from burning the shop down."

The man outside pointed his men toward the gambling house, but paused instead of following and turned to look in the direction of the tavern. Hako quickly dropped the shutter. "Please don't be thirsty," she whispered and kept repeating like a mantra.

Obi-Wan nursed his drink while leaning against the wall. He couldn't see outside, but he could certainly sense the unwanted attention on the tavern.

And something else.

Instead of returning to his seat at the bar, Obi-Wan sat down at the table closest to the door. Just as he finished his drink, the door slid open with a crash.

"Hello! Hello!" Ripper called as he lead the motley trio into the room. He put his foot up on the bench next to Obi-Wan and pulled the small blaster he had brandished in the street and aimed the muzzle inches from Obi-Wan's temple. Burssk took up position at Obi-Wan's other side with a flat blade in his hand, and Zu Duth parked himself across the table.

Hako appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, an old pulse rifle in hand. Obi-Wan gave her a slight shake of his head and looked toward the back of the kitchen. Hako just stood there frozen until she caught Ripper's attention.

"Drinks, woman," the human called out.

"Leave her be," Obi-Wan said.

"It's her job to serve us," Zu Duth said.

"You are hungry too," Obi-Wan suggested.

Ripper nodded. "Yeah, I'm hungry."

Obi-Wan looked to Hako. "Why don't you fix these gentlemen each a bowl of your famous mash. Make sure that it's warm. A hot meal for a cold day."

Hako gave Obi-Wan an incredulous look while letting the rifle sag in her grip. Exhaling heavily through her nostrils, she turned and stomped out of sight into the kitchen.

Obi-Wan glanced over at his new friend's facial tattoo. "I see you have been to Gault recently."

Ripper grinned. Half his teeth were missing. "Yeah, the jailers would like to see me again. Promised they'd put me before firing squad."

"I'd have my head on a pike," Zu Duth said, "if I ever returned to Irodonia."

Burssk hissed, but didn't gloat like his companions.

Obi-Wan looked up at the large Trandoshan and smiled. "Don't you want to share?"

Leaning down and exhaling into Obi-Wan's face and ruffling his hair with the foul breath, Burssk snarled. "I don't have enough time to list how many systems I'm wanted in."

"I see." Obi-Wan glanced to the empty kitchen doorway. No sign of his hostess. Good.

Ripper pressed the muzzle against Obi-Wan's temple. "How about you tell us a little about yourself."

"I am not much of a braggart."

Burssk made a low sound that was somewhere between a hiss and growl as he grabbed Obi-Wan's hair and drew his head back until Obi-Wan's throat was exposed to the blade held in the Trandoshan's other hand. "We insist."

Obi-Wan did not bow to the demand.

With a snort Burssk nodded to Zu Duth, who strode into the kitchen. "Perhaps, your furry friend will compel you to answer," came the hissed threat.

The Devaronian growled as she was jerked through the kitchen door, and held by the Zabrak in one hand, with a blaster muzzle buried in her side.

Fright filled Hako's eyes.

"Well, if you insist." Obi-Wan kicked back from the table, toppling the bench as he fell away from Burssk's blade while grabbing Ripper's extended hand, directing the sleek pistol toward the Trandoshan. A bolt took Burssk down before Ripper realized what had happened, and before he could recover, Obi-Wan pulled the human with him toward the floor just as Zu Duth got off several shots.

Right into Ripper.

Obi-Wan rolled, narrowly missing the volley of bolts that followed and grabbed Rippers's discarded weapon. Twisting in a fluid motion, he let loose a single shot.

The move was clumsy by his usual standards, but still managed to strike the intended target. The Zabrak shrieked and dropped his weapon, but held on to Hako for a moment longer as he stumbled backward, crashing into the stools at the bar before sinking to the floor in a heap and taking the Devaronian with him.

In the sudden silence that engulfed the tavern, Obi-Wan became aware of the pistol in his hand and discarded it, letting it clatter across the floor. With a little more effort than he would have liked, he got to his feet and went to Hako's side and offered her a gentle hand, helping her up.

Hako tapped her claws together as she looked around at the carnage. Shaking her head, she said, "There will be reprisals."

"Indeed."


	3. Chapter 3

A glass of warmed Naboo flower ale was handed to Obi-Wan by a pink skinned Twi'lek addressed as Bumi. When he thanked her, he noted the slave collar around her neck. The lovely kind, Obi-Wan thought that was armed with a shock disabler, but no explosives, at least that he could see.

Bumi glanced away, as if aware of his attention, and quickly excused herself.

Not long after the coroner had carted off the bodies of the three men who had assaulted him in the bar—the so-called mayor hand waved away the incident as he had no interest in contacting the magistrate in Hazaar—Kuroth Jato sent an escort.

Sipping the drink, which Obi-Wan was grateful for as he had been cold ever since being dragged out of the lake, he looked about the dimly lit chamber that was warmed by an ornate heating unit in the center. The inn room was adequate, but sparse. It was not designed to accommodate high end travelers this far from civilization. Certainly, Obi-Wan had enjoyed better. The pleasure moon of Ord Andiro came to mind.

There had been far worse places as well. Just the memory of some made him crave a shower.

One of the clear luxuries of the room, outside the radiant heat, was the large chair Obi-Wan was finding himself a bit too comfortable in. If he stayed there much longer, he might fall asleep.

With the swoosh of an opening door, Obi-Wan amended that last thought as a tall, stately Zabrak with intricate facial tattoos walked into the room.

"Forgive my delay. I am Kuroth Jato," he said as he offered a low bow before his guest. "I had to confer with my men." When he straightened, he looked Obi-Wan over. "I had imagined a far different being to have carried out the tavern exploits."

A shrug. "I suspect they had been drinking quite heavily," Obi-Wan said, not entirely sounding convincing. He jostled the glass of warm liquid. "I was just appreciating this fine ale. Perhaps you have some more?"

Kuroth paced about the room. "I am quite impressed," he began. "Even drunk, those three criminals were the worst that thug Rahn has brought into this town. He and the insects that serve him have the audacity to call themselves Defenders when they are the threat." Kuroth turned to study Obi-Wan again.

The Jedi casually finished off his drink and then held the glass out to the Zabrak.

Kuroth pointedly ignored the gesture. "You are looking for means to the capital, am I correct?"

There are no secrets in a small community, Obi-Wan thought. He leaned forward in the chair and rolled the empty glass about over his fingers. "Correct. I have business in the capital."

"We are the furthest point from the capital."

"That is what I have been told," Obi-Wan said. And it was starting to get old.

"Three weeks."

"Excuse me?"

Clasping his hands behind his back, Kuroth Jato looked down on the seated man. "In three weeks, I make a supply run to Pirin. You can travel along with my caravan as added protection, and provided you help me defeat these criminals, the Defenders, by then."

Scratching at his beard, Obi-Wan considered the offer. "The thing is, as welcoming as your town is, I really do need to be on my way." He thought of the row of speeders and swoops standing near a large warehouse behind the inn and the general store next door. "One of your speeder bikes." He patted the air, stilling any argument his host might have. "Just to borrow. I'll leave it so you can pick it up when you go to Pirin in three weeks." Obi-Wan didn't wait for an answer, before continuing with his demands. Pressing a hand to his coat pocket, he said, "Meanwhile, I'll need room and board." He held up the glass. "And drink. Any more of that ale?"

The Zabrak pursed his lips. "You don't ask for much."

There was a long silence.

"Fine."

Was there water still in his ears? Obi-Wan's expression remained calm, but inwardly, he was surprised at the ease of which Kuroth had given in. He should have asked for passage on a transport while he was at it.

"I'll meet your requests," the Zabrak said.

Before the words had died on Kuroth's lips, the door to the study flew open and a domineering female Zabrak stormed in. The impressive crown of horns made her a frightful presence. "There is an issue," she said as she glared at her husband. Obi-Wan was not spared, as her fierce look fell on him.

Kuroth frowned. "Naal can be a bit...insistent." He bowed again and apologized, "You'll have to excuse me." At the door, the tall man paused. "I'll send Bumi in with more ale."

Tipping his chin, Obi-Wan said, "I would be grateful."

The Jedi waited until Kuroth had made his way out of the chamber and the door closed behind, then Obi-Wan set his glass aside and approached the closed door. Searching the Force, he scanned his immediate surroundings and realized he was nearly alone.

A wave of his hand and the door slid soundlessly open revealing a startled Bumi. He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. He slipped past the Twi'lek and headed in the direction Kuroth had gone.

The sound of rising whispers from around the corner made him pause. He stepped lightly across the corridor and leaned against the wall. From his vantage point, he couldn't see into the chamber, but could easily make out the heated discussion.

"You're just going to give away a speeder bike?" Naal snarled. "You folded to any demand he made. How foolish can you be?"

"He took out three criminals unarmed. We can finally put Rahn out of business," Kuroth said in a calm voice.

A third voice entered the discussion. "What if he tells the capital about what's going on here?"

"You'll kill him afterwards," Naal said. There was no hesitation in her voice. "We don't have to pay him or worry about him talking about the activities in town."

"Do I have to?" It was more of a whine than a question. "I've already killed one of those Defenders."

The sound of flesh striking flesh was quickly followed by a cry of pain.

"You worthless child," Naal hissed.

"Leave Deruun alone," Kuroth said. "For now, we should concern ourselves with defeating the Defenders."

•

The morning sun cast an orange glow and created dense shadows as it flooded in through the broad window on the inn's second floor. In the far distance, under Oranda'harsh rays, were mountains barely visible in the bright light. The chamber was long, focused by a great table and matching chairs that ran nearly the entire length of the room.

Kuroth stood at the head of the table as a handful of subordinates filed in. Obi-Wan noted that these were not common thugs, but professionals. The Jato family bodyguard.

The first was a Zabrak of darker skin than the members of the Jato family with his hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Heavy black tattoos and gold rings in his ears painted a fierce visage. Kuroth addressed him as Hoad Malk and despite his appearance, he offered a shallow bow to the newcomer before waiting at his place at the table.

The human was less genteel, offering Obi-Wan a suspicious glare with his one good eye. An eyepatch covered the burned and scarred flesh of the right side of his face. He was introduced simply as Sern.

Obi-Wan felt the warning before the third member, followed by Naal and her nervous son, Deruun, entered. A Tholothian, looking like a walking arsenal appeared. The long, fleshy tendrils of her headdress swayed as she strode along the wall to her place at the table.

There was no mistaking in her rich, blue eyes that she recognized Obi-Wan.

No introduction was needed as this was Aria Samar, a bounty hunter of some repute that had disappeared more than a year before.

She smiled at Obi-Wan even as her hand fell to the blaster at her hip. "Have we met before?" There was a teasing in her voice. "I'm sure I've seen your face."

Obi-Wan scratched at his beard, seemingly disinterested by her interest. "I just have one of those faces." This could be a problem, he thought has he assessed everyone in the room and his escape options. He and Aria had a few run-ins over the years, and he had foiled a couple of her jobs. She had promised more than once there would be retribution.

"Yes," Aria said, her tone dropping a level. "The kind that says shoot me." She pulled out a chair and sat down.

Everyone else followed, except Hoad who waited until all the members of the Jato were seated.

Several tall vases filled with white orchids were posted in the center of the long table, looking far too ornate for those who found seat there. The lovely flowers were of little interest, as Obi-Wan was the singular focus of attention.

"He doesn't look that tough," the human, Sern, grunted.

Aria rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, eyeing Obi-Wan carefully. A wicked grin. "What's your name, stranger?"

Obi-Wan leaned back in the tall wooden chair that was set back from the table and drew his gaze to the delicate flowers. "Vanda Hokeryana."

Naal laughed. "You named yourself after a flower?"

"A particular breed of Alderaani orchid," Obi-Wan said. "They are only found in the gardens of the Aldera Royal Palace."

The young Zabrak, Deruun, looked about. "What does that mean?"

"That he is special," Kuroth said.

Obi-Wan smiled. "I was going for one of a kind, but special works too."

The Thololian rolled her eyes. "You are something," she said under her breath.

The men were not as amused. Hoad motioned a long finger to Obi-Wan. "Flower boy doesn't have any blasters."

"A blaster isn't his kind of weapon," Aria said.

Obi-Wan glanced her way.

"That's easily taken care of," Kuroth said. "Bumi," he barked, "bring us drinks. We have much to discuss."

Once Bumi had come and gone, Obi-Wan drew one of the carafes closer, making sure not to be so subtle that the others wouldn't notice.

Kuroth rose to his feet and began pacing the length of the room. The businessman looked to his wife and son who sat at the far end of the table, and then to each of his three bodyguards, and finally to Obi-Wan. He spoke in a bold tone. "With such a strong table, and the men at your command, I feel now is the time to make our move on the Defenders. They just lost three of their guns." He swept a hand in Obi-Wan's direction. "The man responsible has sided against them. That alone should thin out the weak."

Hoad and Sern took the news with little surprise, turning inward to each other to discuss strategy. Obi-Wan glanced over at Aria who was glaring at him.

The Tholothian leaned forward, her voice low and tense. "A speeder bike, really? No wonder they call you the Negotiator. I get a handful of credits hardly worth the discomfort of hanging out here in the land of the forgotten until things die down."

A smile. "Oh yes, I remember, you are in a bit of hot water with the Hutts."

"No thanks to you."

Obi-Wan imagined her hand was still on her blaster and she was seriously contemplating shooting him. He probably deserved it, but knew that Aria was very keen, and wouldn't make such a bold move.

At least, not at this moment.

"We will attack tonight," Sern announced.

"No." Kuroth was quick to counter. "Today. Noon. There is no time to spare in preparations.

This earned disapproval from the three bodyguards in the Jato service.

"We are not dealing with soldiers," Hoad began. "These are farm boys barely capable of hitting a sitting freighter from ten meters. A sneak attack—"

"Would give Rahn Merak the cover of night to run away in," Kuroth countered. "No. We will do this in broad daylight. Surround them and pick off the Defenders as easily as the harvesters in the marshes gather their pearls."


End file.
